The Wind at Your Back
by Fleury's Apprentice70
Summary: No one seems to understand the unique relationship between Jack Frost and the wind. Four encounters between other spirits and Jack with the wind that is never too far behind.
1. Protection

**Protection (noun):**_** 1. The action of protecting someone or something, or the state of being protected. 2. A person or thing that prevents someone or something from suffering harm or injury.**_

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He didn't understand it. He didn't understand it on his first encounter, and he certainly didn't understand it centuries later during that fateful encounter in Antarctica. He doubted that he would ever know the workings of Jack Frost.

All he knew was that when he first met him, he thought nothing of him. He had just sense the fear that radiated off the boy almost like the venomous rays of the sun. The fear of death, of isolation, of being forgotten, of what was left behind and the future—all tumultuous and dispersing into the surrounding area.

It caught Pitch Black's attention almost immediately. He followed the scent from the lone village all the way to the frozen pond. A seemingly lifeless heap was curled in on itself in the center of the frozen mass. This was the source of the blissful misery and fear. As he edged closer to the tree line, he could taste the sweet and sour flavor of self-loathing.

It was almost too good to be true. All this bundle of fear needed was a bow on top and Pitch would've sworn that North had sent him a gift!

What the embodiment of Nightmares failed to notice was the shift of the breeze as he journeyed closer. As he stood at the edge of the clearing, the wind had picked up and seemed to alternate at tugging and pulling at the loose clothing of the boy on the pond as if to rouse him and alert him of danger and trying to tug Pitch's shadow back towards the woods.

He continued on his way though, his eyes focused on the boy. The spirit now stood on the edge of the frozen pond. Just as he was about to step onto the sheet of ice, a monstrous sound howled within the woods, startling the dark spirit.

Pitch Black was the darkness though and so continued on with just a touch of hesitance as the noise rocketed in volume to almost deafening proportions. How the boy had not stirred, he would not know. It wasn't until Pitch was leaning over the boy that he instantly regretted ignoring the now obvious warnings.

An invisible entity picked him up with such force that when Pitch hit a tree at the edge of the clearing, it fell over almost instantly. Howling roared in his ears as if a flock of banshees had decided to visit. The force kept him on his back, unable to sit up or take cover as the wind—that's what this thing was—picked up the fresh snow and turned the innocuous object into a threat. It clouded his vision and felt like needles being thrown against him repeatedly.

As quick as it started though, it had ended. When the Nightmare King finally found it in him to sit up, he found the pond empty and the only fear in the air his own.

He would never understand the actions of the usually selfish wind that night. Then again, the bringer of nightmares and fear never understood the raw need to protect before.

Because the wind was Jack Frost's protector and would continue to protect him until he found it in himself to hold his own. Until Jack became the great legend he was meant to be. Of course the wind would always be there to protect him if need be, but even the wind knew that Jack wouldn't want that. He was just as independent and stubborn as the wind.

And so three hundred years later, Jack stood his ground in Antarctica against Pitch. He stood there alone and prepared to protect not only himself, but Baby Tooth and in turn the other Guardians and the children of the world.

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**I like the idea of the unique relationship between Jack and the wind and wanted to flesh that out. The next chapters will have more dialogue in them. Hope I did the idea of the wind justice in this chapter. Anyways, thoughts?**


	2. Forgiving

**Forgiving (adjective): 1. Ready and willing to forgive 2. Tolerant  
**

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The other spirits didn't understand. They didn't understand how someone so selfish and destructive could always be toted around on the wind.

Autumn though, Autumn had an inkling of an idea why.

She had been overseeing her children's work as the trees were slowly changing from green to vibrant oranges, yellows, reds, and even browns.

"Add a bit more yellow to that!" she called up to one of the sprites who was painting with too dull of a brown. The sprite nodded an affirmative before rustling around its paint collection.

She smiled, content, as the little sprite created a warmer color and began the tentative job of repainting the leaves. Autumn made her way through the yellowing grass that changed beneath her step. She was really outdoing herself this year and everyone would see it through all of the choice artistry.

That was until she heard the outburst in the woods that she had just left moments ago. Autumn pursed her lips before turning on her heels after holding a finger up to tell her underlings—her children—to stay and continue their masterpieces. She would be the one to check in on their siblings and to find the source of this commotion. Though as she backtracked, she began to get a hunch as to what—or rather, _who_—caused the commotion, if this icy breeze that cut through her core meant anything.

"Fun is what you want?" Autumn heard one of the sprites call out as she grew closer. There was a group of the fall sprites crowded around a single tree up ahead. Tree trunks were splattered and there were broken porcelain bowls littering the ground. The fragile leaves quivered and some were already on the ground, still a lively green. "Then come down and play with us!"

"Hey, hey! Stop that! I don't think Autumn would be happy that you're throwing those—at me, no less!"

Oh yes, it was exactly who she thought it was.

"_Enough_."

Her children silenced with acorns held so tight their knuckles were white. One let go of one more acorn that missed its target, but just barely.

Jack Frost twisted an arm around his staff and leaned against it. He didn't seem to care that he was on a precariously unstable branch nor that he was rather high in the tree. Whenever he would teeter or it looked like, to Autumn at least, that he would lose his balance, a soft breeze seemed to tug at him and rustle his hair as it helped him keep his balance. He gave a mischievous grin and winked at the fall spirit before saying a not so sincere, "Thanks!"

Autumn held her chin up. "Do not thank me yet, Frost."

The boy's expression faltered and fell. It was no secret that the other seasonal and nature sprites and spirits were not a fan of this lone Winter Spirit. The boy was quite mischievous and seemed to cause destruction no matter where he went. It was also known though, that out of all of the other three seasonal spirits, Autumn was the most receptive to him. Maybe it was because he was just a boy and despite appearing young, the spirit of the fall was quite maternal. It could be because she understood he was just doing his job just as she was doing hers or how she once witnessed how he went about his frost designs as delicately as she did her paintwork. The boy began to view her as a calm force who wouldn't harm him unlike her sprites and other spirits.

There was a line though, and judging by his expression, he was just figuring out he crossed it.

"It is three months too soon for you, Frost." she said and wiped some paint off of one of her daughter's faces. "Not only have you postponed Fall for this forest, but you have upset my children." She looked up pointedly at the Winter Spirit. The wind still picking at his hair and correcting the placement of his weight.

"I was just trying to find a place to rest!" He exclaimed. "I didn't mean for _this_ to happen!" He gestured to the mess that used to be the forest. "And they're the ones who started it! I stopped to apologize and they started to _throw_ things at me!"

Some of the fall sprites began to sputter and try to collect words to counter this accusation. Autumn held up a hand to silence them. They could be spiteful but with all their hardwork gone to waste, anyone would be upset to throw a thing or two. She couldn't consider that a lie since she had seen them launch things after all. But Jack Frost had a reputation for lying and snaking his way out of trouble. She doubted the boy even had an "I'm sorry" in his vocabulary.

"I am going to have to request for you to leave, Jack."

"But I've been flying all day and Autumn! Come on. You know I wouldn't do this on purpose." His shoulders fell and his face slackened into a disheartened frown. The wind around him began to get restless and reached out farther, whistling through the embodiments of fall as if telling them to stop upsetting the boy.

Autumn shook her head, her hair flying wildly from the wind. "Jack Frost, it is not my fault that you have made it so no one will stand beside you. Now please find someplace else to do your resting. Though I have been kind to you in the past, you have set me back days and hurt my children. A sorry just won't cut it."

This struck a chord with the other spirit. "Fine! It's not like I was looking for your sympathies or whatever it is you call it. I don't need any of that! I don't need anyone! Wind!"

And just like that, Autumn's hair fell back graciously over her shoulders. The leaves stood still for the first time since Jack's appearance. The winter child himself almost lost his balance and had to regain it himself before settling on grabbing onto the tree trunk to steady himself. His hair fell and didn't even twitch with a breeze. It was oddly quieter though there was no noise before as far as Autumn could tell.

"Wind!" the boy shouted again with a tremor in his voice this time. Staff was outstretched as if to gain the attention of the uncontrollable force. "Wind!" His voice broke and yet nothing responded to his call. He was absolutely by himself, standing alone.

"Are you sure about that, Jack?"

"Wind!" His face crumpled as if he was trying to hold back tears that leaked through his calls for the wind.

Murmurs ran through the sprites and jeers at the winter child were heard. "Looks like Frost drove away the only thing that cared!"

"It mustn't have cared that much if it left so easily!"

"Would _you_ really want to stick around him?"

"He cares for no one but himself!"

Jack Frost clung to the tree so as not to fall as more acorns were tossed up and he didn't have anything to drive them away. They hit their mark each time now. Any sprite that got too close, Jack now had to physically bat away with his staff and he froze others. Before Autumn could control the riled up mob of sprites, there was a crash. A broken porcelain bowl hit Jack's blindside as nothing was there to watch his back anymore.

Autumn closed her eyes as he fell. He was only a boy after all—eternal spirit or not. She didn't know what happened that caused a sudden force to drive back the reaching and grabbing sprites or what caused the boy to suddenly be picked up underneath his arms and tossed higher up into the air, cushioned and supported.

(He had in fact whispered a mangled, "I'm sorry.")

She opened her eyes though to the boy as he turned and twisted up and up until he was just a speck and then nothing. His strangled sobs turning into laughter.

Autumn smiled "Maybe we were both wrong, Jack Frost."

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**I'm really surprised by the response to this and I'm sorry it has taken me this long to update. I wasn't expecting second semester to be so tedious and busy, but school is over now and the rest of the updates for this should come quickly. Thank you and as always, I do not own any of this.**


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